“Ay, bhai singh,[60] isn’t goat-fucking a tradition in your country? Don’t you all think goat pussy is the closest thing to real vag?” Bernard countered.
Nick’s jaw tightened, but Mehmet just laughed. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
Bernard flared his nostrils, trying to figure out whether he should feel insulted.
“Bernard, why don’t you stay? Those who don’t want to be here can head to the hotel first, and we can all meet up later,” Colin suggested, trying to play the diplomat.
“Suits me fine.”
“Okay, then, I’ll take the group to the hotel and we’ll meet up at—”
“Wah lan![61] I organized this specially for you, and you’re not staying?” Bernard sounded frustrated.
“Er … to be honest, I don’t care for this either,” Colin said, trying to look apologetic.
Bernard paused for a moment, supremely conflicted. He wanted to enjoy the dogfights, but at the same time he wanted everyone to witness the profuse ass-kissing he would receive from hotel management the minute they pulled up to the resort.
“ ’Kay lah, it’s your party,” Bernard muttered sulkily.
The sumptuous lobby of the Wynn Macau boasted a huge gilt mural on the ceiling that featured animals of the Chinese zodiac, and at least half the assembled group were relieved to be someplace where the animals were covered in twenty-two-carat gold instead of blood. At the reception desk, Bernard was having one of the classic fits he was renowned for the world over.
“What the fuck! I’m a VVIP here, and I booked the most expensive suite in this entire hotel almost a week ago. How can it not be ready?” Bernard raged to the manager.
“I do apologize, Mr. Tai. Checkout time for the Presidential Penthouse is four o’clock, so the previous guests have not yet vacated the room. But as soon as they do, we’ll have the suite serviced and turned around for you in no time at all,” the manager said.
“Who are these bastards? I’ll bet they’re Hongkies! Those ya ya[62] Hongkies always think they own the world!”
The manager never broke his smile throughout Bernard’s tirade. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the business of Dato’ Tai Toh Lui’s son — the boy was such a bloody brilliant loser at the baccarat tables. “Some of the grand salon suites reserved for your party are ready. Please allow me to escort you there with a few bottles of your favorite Cristal.”
“I’m not going to dirty my Tod’s setting foot in one of those rat holes! I want my duplex or nothing,” Bernard said petulantly.
“Bernard, why don’t we visit the casino first?” Colin calmly suggested. “It’s what we would have done anyway.”
“I’ll go to the casino, but you guys need to give us the best private VVIP gambling salon right now,” Bernard demanded of the manager.
“Of course, of course. We always have our most exclusive gaming salon available to you, Mr. Tai,” the manager said deftly.
Just then, Alistair Cheng wandered into the lobby, looking slightly disheveled.
“Alistair, so glad you found us!” Colin greeted him heartily.
“Told you it wouldn’t be a problem. Hong Kong’s just thirty minutes away by hydrofoil, and I know Macau like the back of my hand — I used to skip school and come here all the time with my classmates,” Alistair said. He caught sight of Nick and went over to give him a hug.
“Aiyoh, how sweet. Is this your boyfriend, Nickyboy?” Bernard said mockingly.
“Alistair’s my cousin,” Nick replied.
“So you guys played with each other’s cocks while growing up,” Bernard taunted, laughing at his own joke.
Nick ignored him, wondering how it was possible that Bernard hadn’t changed one bit since they were in primary school. He turned back to his cousin and said, “Hey, I thought you were coming to visit me in New York this spring. What happened?”
“A girl happened, Nick.”
“Really? Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Her name’s Kitty. She’s an amazingly talented actress from Taiwan. You’ll meet her next week — I’m bringing her to Colin’s wedding.”
“Wow, I can’t wait to meet the girl who finally stole the heart-breaker’s heart,” Nick teased. Alistair was just twenty-six, but his baby-face good looks and laid-back persona had already made him renowned for leaving a trail of broken hearts all over the Pacific Rim. (Aside from ex-girlfriends in Hong Kong, Singapore, Thailand, Taipei, Shanghai, and one summer fling in Vancouver, a diplomat’s daughter at his college in Sydney famously became so obsessed that she attempted to overdose on Benadryl just to get his attention.)
“Hey, I heard you brought your girlfriend to Singapore too,” Alistair said.
“Word travels fast, doesn’t it?”
“My mum heard it from Radio One Asia.”
“You know, I’m beginning to suspect that Cassandra has me under surveillance,” Nick said wryly.
The group entered the sprawling casino where the gaming tables seemed to glow with a peachy, golden light. Colin crossed the opulent sea anemone-patterned carpet and approached the Texas hold ’em table. “Colin, the VIP salons are this way,” Bernard said, trying to steer Colin toward the sumptuous salons reserved for high rollers.
“But it’s more fun to play five-dollar poker,” Colin argued.
“No, no, we’re moguls, man! I created that whole scene with the manager just so we could score the best VIP room. Why would you want to mix with all these smelly Mainlanders out here?” Bernard said.
“Let me just play a couple of rounds here and then we’ll go to the VIP room, okay?” Colin pleaded.
“I’ll join you, Colin,” Alistair said, sliding into a seat.
Bernard smiled tightly, looking like a rabid Boston terrier. “Well I’m going to our VIP room. I can’t play at these kiddie tables — I only get hard when I’m betting at least thirty thousand per hand,” he said with a sniff. “Who’s with me?” Most of Bernard’s entourage peeled off with him, with the exception of Nick, Mehmet, and Lionel. Colin’s face clouded over.
Nick took the other seat beside Colin. “I have to warn you guys, two years in New York has made me quite a cardsharp. Prepare to be schooled by the master … Colin, remind me what game this is?” he said, trying to lighten the mood. As the dealer began to expertly flick the cards across the table, Nick quietly fumed. Bernard had always been a troublemaker. Why should things be any different this weekend?
SINGAPORE, 1986
It all happened so fast, the next thing Nick remembered was the feeling of cold damp mud against his neck and a strange face looking down on him. Dark skin, freckles, a shock of brownish-black hair.
“Are you okay?” the dark boy asked.
“I think so,” Nick said, his vision coming back into focus. His entire back was soaked in muddy water from being pushed into the ditch. He got up slowly and looked around to see Bernard leering at him, red-faced, arms crossed like an angry old man.
“I’m going to tell your mum that you hit me!” Bernard shouted at the boy.
“And I’m going to tell your mum that you’re a bully. Plus, I didn’t hit you — I just pushed you away,” the boy replied.
“It was none of your bloody business! I’m trying to teach this little dick here a lesson!” Bernard seethed.
“I saw the way you shoved him into the ditch. You could have really hurt him. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” the boy replied calmly, not the least intimidated by Bernard.
60
Racial slur for a Sikh person, used in this instance to refer to anyone of Middle Eastern origins.
61
Hokkien for “oh penis.” This extremely popular and versatile term can be used — depending on the tone — to convey anything from “oh wow” to “oh fuck.”